


The break up before morning called

by TFALokiwriter



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King, The Dark Tower (2017)
Genre: A scene that was never seen, Angst, Begins happily then ends bad, Break Up Talk, Comfort, M/M, Nice Job Breaking It Hero, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFALokiwriter/pseuds/TFALokiwriter
Summary: The break up that was never seen.





	The break up before morning called

Walter lazily laid on the bed, shirtless, holding the gunslinger in his arms. There were nights where  the thoughts about what he had to do in the morning were chased away. He felt fully content and happy.  Roland's guns, his collection, rested on the counter. They had a little arrangement. No one knew the absolute truth about it. It was done at the dead of night. Then Walter would leave when the first rays of sunshine landed through the window. Pity, it had to be this way. Sleeping with the enemy came with a price. Roland didn't want to be part of what Walter wanted.  Walter knew it couldn't last. It was going to end one way or another, but not by the hands of his rats. A mercy killing would be sufficient. Walter smelled the gunslingers hair. The familiar soft, cool sand in the man's otherwise dark hair.  He held his free hand above the man's hair then combed it out telepathically leaving a deposit of sand onto the bed. It was moonlight outside. The dark curtains partially blocked the window.

Walter placed his hand back on the man's waist.

Perfectly happy.

Walter sensed a nightmare was brewing in the gunslingers sleep. Walter focused on the man's dream removing his other hand then placed his hand on the man's shoulder. He sent soothing, warm feelings through the joint link they shared in the mind. The gunslinger's breathing returned to normal. His arms stopped moving and his hands fell from the trigger formation freely open. A part of the telepathic wondered if Roland was dreaming of firing on his rats and refueling his ammo. Which was rare to come by, and yet, Roland kept coming up with ammo. If it was so rare, where was he getting all the bullets from? Walter put in a cuddly, heartwarming  train of dreaming featuring kittens. Roland loved kittens. Sometimes, Roland's hands moved as though he was in the middle of a gun fight. They were compatible. _Yet. . ._ Walter was hesitant about committing completely. A bond was a very serious issue when it came to shiners. This war meant one of them would die.  _By gun or by . ._ .He shouldn't think of that. Walter kept the negative thoughts back.

If anything, the only acceptable way to die is by Roland's gun. Sometimes, Walter had nightmares of Roland laying on the ground covered by dust with building structures on his back while gravely wounded. Looked like he was dead in this glimpses. It broke his heart. Walter kept the facade up that he had awakened early when it came to Roland waking up first after he had one of his nightmares. How would Steven Deschain accept him? After what he had done. No, they would never accept him. Roland would accept him, yet Walter was unsure every else would accept him. As the gunslingers partner, as Walter Padick-Deschain.  A future with them together was uncertain. Walter closed his eyes returning to sleep with a little smile. Walter could steal some more precious time with Roland. It couldn't hurt, now could it? Just a little more time. Walter listened to the man's heart beat.

* * *

The bed creaked, loudly, stirring the man awake from his slumber. Roland had awakened first. Walter looked up to see if there was sunlight. Had he over slept? He hadn't. It was getting lighter yet not enough for him to get going. The events of last night replayed in the man's head. The love making that they had shared together all in silence, windows blocked, as always, and a candle left on the counter. The only thing that showed them that was there between them. It was themselves, vulnerable, and open to each other. The slightest of all touch trailing down the man's back. Walter plopped his head down onto the pillow. He brought the blanket up over onto his waist. Roland whipped up water to his face from the bowl. He used a towel to clean his face off. Everything was fine except for Roland getting up oddly enough so early. He must have made some plans to meet someone earlier that day. And Roland was the most beautiful, gorgeous man that Walter ever laid eyes on. Walter happily sighed, relaxed, and free of the thoughts that had bothered him last night. Roland turned away from the bowl buttoning up his pants wearing a serious expression.

"Walter," Roland began. "we're over."

"We're what?" Walter lifted himself up. "What did I do wrong this time?"

"We can't continue this," Walter stared back at Roland, anger coming up, resisting tears.

"That's what I said when we started," Walter said. "you started it."

"And I am ending it," Roland said. "it compromises my duty as a gunslinger."

". . . And before you started it, you weren't a gunslinger?" Walter asked. His eyes bore back at the gunslinger. Looking into him, almost as though through his soul, searching for the real answer.  Walter's eyes widened.  "Your---Your father knows!" Walter pointed his finger at the dark man. "and you are throwing it away because of him! Isn't it?"

"No," Roland said, flatly. "it is not. I was in the wrong when we started this relationship. And I have come to my senses."

Walter looked at the gunslinger, confused, angry, hurt---and before Roland knew it, there was a hard slap to his face. Roland turned his head back toward the man acting as though it had not hurt. 

"You are going to kill everyone you love throwing them away like that," Walter turned away then made his path out of the room.

The curtains ripped off the wall flying into his grasp. 

"Leave the curtains!" Roland shouted.

"They are mine now, like your fate is," Walter stated, disappearing into the night with the curtains acting as a cloak around his figure.

Roland looked over to the mess of attire left behind. A dark coat, a vest, white shirt, red bandana, long dark pants, and he didn't leave behind any briefs. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked over toward his own attire from last night to see some of them were in tatters and needed to be replaced. He looked over toward the ones that Walter had left behind not bothering to get dressed. He rubbed his chin looking down upon it. Two could play at this game. And if Roland saw Walter in dark attire the next time; one of them would look better in the others property. And it certainly wasn't going to be Walter.

**The End.**


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